Mnemovore: Nathan and Jean-Paul

[x-cynosure.livejournal.com]

After wrapping up their business in Moldova, Nathan and Jean-Paul are caught in an ambush.



Jean-Paul had lost his tie again and forgotten his suit coat on the sidelines of the impromptu soccer game that had sprung up with the local kids in the wake of completing the actual business portion of their trip. Frankly, he was not inclined to be repentant -- the nearest international airport was almost three-hundred miles outside of Dubasari in Varna, Bulgaria and the drive on top of the flight would have made him crazy without the opportunity to burn off some excess energy beforehand. He slouched the rental car's passenger seat and flashed Nathan an impish grin in the dark; this far beyond the city, there wasn't much to see by but the moon and the headlights.

"All right, so it was not so low key, but confess -- you enjoyed that. Things could not have gone better and that was a fitting celebration."

"What," Nathan asked, amused, "you didn't notice the pictures being surreptitiously snapped? I'll make sure they send you copies." It had as a matter of fact gone very well, all of it. Even so, he hadn't wanted to leave the same way they'd come, although it meant complicating their plans and not taking a local flight out of Kishinev. One of the rules for getting around unnoticed, even in this part of the world, was not duplicating travel methods. There had been no sign whatsoever of trouble, but he wasn't going to push his luck. Why tempt fate?

"I was paying attention to the game, Nathan. And the translator. She was entirely too amused, by the way." He straightened up a bit. "Our next stop is Tel Aviv, then?"

"Well, eventually," Nathan hedged. "I told David to expect us within a couple of days. I'm actually wondering if you might not mind overnighting in Istanbul." There was an almost mischievous edge to his voice. "I could say something about unpredictable travel being a good idea, but actually, there's someone there I want to talk to. Potential new project opportunity." There was no reason not to kill two birds with one stone on this trip. "Plus, Istanbul! Far from the least enjoyable city to spend twenty-four hours or so in..."

A phosphorescent web of yellow light flared to life in the dark and encompassed the front end of the car like a hungry maw, sending a sharp, keening vibration through the teeth and bones of the passengers inside before the wheel locked up. The car went into a sharp skid, losing most of its momentum and was left teetering on the bank of the ditch paralleling the road before sliding to rest on its side, sending a frigid gush of muddy water in through the driver's side window.

"Shit!" Nathan hissed, pushing through the shock of the sudden attack and struggling with his seatbelt. Being pinned down in this car would not be a good thing. "Someone up there - they're shielded." He caught a flicker of a psi-signature even as he said it, but it winked out again almost immediately. No telling who, or how many there were.

Jean-Paul had his belt undone in a second and was over the back seat and through the rear window in a moment, shielding his face from the glass with both arms. The maneuver gained him small cuts on his hands, but got him out in the open. He doubted whoever it was expected an exit from anywhere but the front, and he made a very good distraction while Nate got free...though he did spare an instant to think Nate's way, the transmission incurring mental "static" as his mind began to move at greater speeds.

#How's your shield?#

#Give me a second-# The driver's side door tore itself off the hinges and Nathan was out and splashing through the water. #Get back here and I'll shield us both.# There were worse things to do in a situation like this than take (or create) cover while you sized up the opposition. Although that was going to be challenging, when his telepathy was out and the visibility was this bad.

Jean-Paul didn't argue. His plan to draw fire had been success; an unseen attack disrupted the air just before his face. He drew up to Nate's side, scowling. "I cannot see a damned thing beyond this car. Can you point me at them?"

"No. Fuck. Whoever's masking them is good." Impossible to pick out too-quiet spots when the whole area was quiet. The car levitated, moving smoothly to interpose itself between them and the road. A little extra in the way of obstacles never hurt anyone, and worse case scenario, he could throw it. "Shit. We can't just stand out here." There was no light to speak of; the moon had vanished behind the clouds, as if on cue, and the headlights of the car were flickering and dying. Nathan tugged Jean-Paul towards the shelter provided by the car. He could include it in the shield, let it take the brunt of any energy attacks.

"How much wind friction can your shield stand up to? Get yourself covered up and I can have us a hundred miles away in a second." After that, they could get to the airport or to wherever they needed...

The outline of a small, slender figure seemed to appear out of nowhere on the edge of Jean-Paul's peripheral vision, only a few meters away and barely visible in the fading light. The black-clad figure was raising its hands in the all-too-familiar prelude to an energy blaster's attack.

The speedster's reflexes gave him an instant to react, to choose whether to go after the shooter and hope that he disrupted her aim or that Nathan's shield would stand up to whatever it was, or try to get both of them clear. He lunged for Nathan. The newcomer braced and the edge of another invisible wave caught the speedster, causing him to stagger. There was no pain, only the world getting duller and colder, a sensation he'd not felt since he'd last seen Jeanne-Marie.

#Power nullifier. The shield didn't have any effect.# His thoughts to Nate came through crystal clear, along with a well-buried edge of fear. This situation had just gotten very bad.

Nathan, scrambling back to his feet, responded by lashing out at the barely seen figure, sending him - her? Nathan thought at the flicker of thoughts he caught in the moment of impact - spinning away like a rag doll. But it was a good thing that being attacked didn't mean dropping his defenses, because even as he knocked the one attacker away, something hit his shield - projectiles? He couldn't tell what they were. Not bullets, at least. He flinched, but didn't wince as he dropped back behind the car.

"Don't deplete yourself, Ed. They're not going anywhere." The new voice was male, upper-crust and held more than a hint of self-satisfaction. Whoever it belonged to seemed content to remain out of the fading light. "Nathan Dayspring, I presume? My name is Shrine. I don't suppose you'd like to surrender and save me the fuss of having to beat the fight out of you?"

"Go to hell." The response came in unison from Nathan and Jean-Paul.

"I meant 'you' in the singular." There was a hint of amusement in the words. "My employer is not particularly interested in Beaubier's surrender." A prickling sensation started up on Nathan's mental shielding, as if a thousand fire ants were running across the surface of his brain, seeking a way in. A white hot needle of pain stabbed down into his mind a moment later, an aggressive and precise breach attempt.

Nathan bit back another curse, nearly doubling over behind the shelter of the car. The TK shield wavered, but solidified - he'd multi-tasked in the face of worse. But if another physical attack came and he couldn't stop the telepathic assault, or worse, if that power nullifer wasn't down for the count and managed to hit him...

What it meant was that he needed to use his telekinesis while he had it. "Get clear," he grated at Jean-Paul. "Other direction. Go. Now." The ground under their feet trembled under the telekinetic spillover. Use the car as a club, a much calmer part of his mind calculated, or blast it into shrapnel, take them all out at once-

Jean-Paul's first instinct was to object, but he pushed it down and backed off. Hobbling Nathan wasn't going to help either of them. As soon as he broke cover, he heard the fall of boots on the blacktop closing in on his position. At least two, probably three. Either Nathan was taking up all of their leader's attention or the man just didn't feel it was worth keeping them hidden at this point. Some good news, though: there was a faint pins-and-needles sensation under his skin, as familiar as the feeling of his powers being shut down and far more welcome. A minute, maybe less, and he would have his speed back.

That same glowing energy web suddenly flared into life again, flinging itself over his shield like a shimmering curtain. Nathan went to his knees, biting back a groan at the feedback. The flanks of his shield wavered and fell, and it was all he could do to keep it intact directly in front of him. Do something with the damned car before you lose the opportunity, that inner voice said more harshly, and Nathan tore the vehicle in half, propelling the rear of it through the web - it stuck for a moment, and feedback jangled along his nerves again - and at the source of the telepathic attack. He sensed, rather than heard the scream of fear.

Another body splashed down into the ditch with Jean-Paul, close enough to confirm that he was definitely beyond the protection of Nathan's shield. His opponant was only a dark outline against the shrouded stars. The outline moved. Jean-Paul blocked automatically and cursed at the sharp pain that skipped along his arm. Cut. A glancing blow with knife or something similar. Another splash, this time at his back. He side-stepped, getting out from between them. A minute was a long time in a fight, he reminded himself. The bank of the ditch wasn't high enough to give him much protection at his back; they could still get around behind him and it would only hamper his movements. He needed to get onto higher ground. Another strike whiffed by his head, barely dodged, but a faint, sharp pain sprouted in the flesh of his shoulder. The discomfort from the hit itself was negligible, but his arm was starting to go numb at the site of the impact. Jean-Paul ripped a handful of barbed quills out of his shoulder. One of his attackers stepped in closer, giving him, he hoped, an opening. The speedster drove an elbow into his throat and was gratified to feel the strike hit home. The nearer of the two aggressors staggered back, gasping. The other swiped at Jean-Paul again. His dodge wasn't good enough to completely avoid another bloodletting cut.

A little less than six seconds all told, Jean-Paul noted.

This might be close.

Other psychic imprints had appeared in the instant that the telepath's concentration had wavered. Too many of them too close to Jean-Paul, and Nathan gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to turn and help his friend. Prioritize your targets! the inner voice snapped tautly, and he knew it was right. If he could get rid of the energy web and take down the telepath, their chances of getting out of this increased exponentially. In an instant he traced the energy web back to one mind and struck at it. He was off-center enough that the telepathic blow didn't quite connect, but it was enough to banish the web. Seizing the moment, Nathan dropped his shield entirely and focused. Telekinetic force tore at what remained of the car, spiraling through the wreck and sending shrapnel flying across the road.

But it cost him. There were footsteps coming at him all of a sudden, someone there where there had been nothing only an instant before, and he had time only to sidestep. By then, the telepath had reacted as well. He sensed the other man's panic in the split-second before a massive psi-bolt, uncontrolled and clearly fueled by terror, smashed into and through his inner defenses. The slender girl who'd rushed him staggered, clearly caught in it as well, and fell towards him as he went back to his knees.

A flash, and they were both gone.

There was utter silence for a moment, then Jean-Paul threw another punch. If he didn't get clear, he was a dead man. Likely he was anyway, but of the options...

It only took a single, exactly placed pulse of psionic energy to drop the speedster into the mud. The lithe feral with clawed, oddly-jointed fingers reached down to take the throat out of their prize, but a sharp word stopped him.

"Don't. If Hub returns with Dayspring, you may dispose of that one. If she does not, he'll be useful as bait."

====

Somewhere else. He knew that he'd been teleported - the sense of wrenching dislocation, the dizziness, could only be that. But he wasn't aware of much else as he fell forward, face-down on the grass. The pain in his head was overwhelming, driving out everything else. Nathan clawed at the ground feebly, struggling for composure as he choked on the blood at the back of his throat.

Hit. Someone had hit him. Who? A noise reached his ears, the sound of someone trying to scrabble back to their feet, and a soft cry. Up. Get up. The inner voice sounded frayed, but still intent. Now, damn it. He spat blood and pushed himself up to his hands and knees, blinking in a vain attempt to focus his vision.

Dark. Wherever he was, it was dark and flat and empty save for the other person - a girl, he saw as his eyes started to adjust. She was staggering, swaying on her feet. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but his shields were gone, shattered wreckage, and all at once, he saw.

Familiar patterns in her mind. Panic brought him back to his feet and he stumbled backwards to buy room to react, room to fight. His features contorted in a snarl as he focused on the girl. They never sent one operative. Always a team. Always.

Mistra was careful that way.